


Time Between Us

by Celestialgunfireopera



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: M/M, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestialgunfireopera/pseuds/Celestialgunfireopera
Summary: Enkidu comes home to Chaldea.
Relationships: Enkidu | False Lancer/Gilgamesh | Archer
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	1. Enkidu

They had been dead for longer than most of humanity had been alive. 

They were used to it at this point. Honestly, being dead wasn’t the worst thing they had ever experienced. It was miserable in its own way, an unending blackness without rest or true feeling. But it was bearable after a while. It was far more bearable than watching Gilgamesh’s agony and grief as their body had crumbled and faded away. It was more bearable than being the cause of their closest friend’s grief.

They had been created near the beginning of humanity’s time on the earth to do the Gods’ bidding and to control the king who had no respect for his people or his Gods. They had been created with one goal, a doll given motion only to chain down Gilgamesh. Their task was to bind GIlgamesh back to the gods. 

It had proved impossible to obey.

Enkidu had first fallen in love with the harsh landscape of Babylonia. It had been craggy mountains reaching for azure blue sky surrounded by golden desserts. On the edge of the empire, there had been vibrant emerald greens and warm browns, the Cedar forest offering both danger and adventure with comforting scents of trees and soil. 

And at the center of it all, had been Uruk. It had been a riot of sounds and vivacious colors, with markets that had been forever busy and offered the most succulent of treats. Buildings of sandstone had reached for the sky, dotted with floating gardens with riots of flowers and greenery. At night the stars had shone with crystalline clarity, diamonds against a black velvet sky as the palace had shone glorious and warm, a beacon to everyone who looked for it. 

It had been a shining jewel for the king of the world, an empire that even the gods had admired. 

But nothing, not the stunning landscape or beauty of Uruk, had compared to Gilgamesh himself.

Something tugged at them, a hook trying to get a grip in what they imagined was the stomach area. Nothing but a phantom sensation probably. They hadn’t had a body in millennia as they’d watched the world change and shift. 

They had been proud of humanity and the progress they had made. Gilgamesh’s decision to cut ties with the gods had been the right decision. He had been humanity’s greatest champion, their first hero, even if most didn’t realize it. Or want to give him that credit.

Enkidu had never cared for the tyrant king who took what he wanted without thought. That Gilgamesh, who had demanded virgins on their wedding nights and acted more a god in need of tribute than anything else, had never interested Enkidu. That man had driven Enkidu to leave the shepherds campfire, where they had first heard tales of the despot, and head for Uruk. That man had forced Enkidu to fight for three days and three nights to prove that others were worth being treated with respect, with equality.

No, Enkidu had never cared for the throne or the crown Gilgamesh had carried. But the man behind that ego? The man who flashed cocky smiles and laughed warmly? The man whose eyes sparkled with challenge? Who looked at Enkidu as his friend, with loyalty and love clear in every line of his body? 

They had never stood a chance against _that_ version of Gilgamesh. Their heart, as non-existent as it had been meant to be, had fallen at Gilgamesh’s feet, another prize to be added to his endless treasury. 

If this was their punishment for choosing Gilgamesh over the gods that had created them, then so be it. They would make the same decision, again and again. If this was what had given humanity their freedom, it had been well worth it. They knew, down to their core, that choosing Gilgamesh, in all of his glory and golden light, in all of his intelligence and blinding strength and charisma, would always be the right choice. There was never going to be another option. Not for Enkidu, at any rate. 

The tugging came again, more insistent. Enkidu shifted, still formless and curious. It felt like a calling of some sort, a humming felt all the way down to their bones. 

_Will you come? Will you answer the call?_

Enkidu could feel the words down to the core of their being, a question that should have never reached them. Their punishment for choosing Gilgamesh, for helping the King of Heroes stand against the gods, was supposed to be without end. 

How to answer? 

_Can I?_ they asked, uncertain and unwilling to hope. Not yet.

The tugging returned stronger this time, until it should have been painful, hooks digging into their flesh. There was nothing, no pain worse than the miserable wretchedness the gods had ordered. Those gods were gone by now, to sleep or to the endless disbelief of changing times. Enkidu didn’t know which. But they were still here, in a pocket of time and space, forgotten and left to suffer. 

_Will you come?_

Clearly, there would be no answer to the question they had asked. There had to be a decision before anything would be made clear. It was a blind jump, an uncertainty given faith.

Enkidu believed in two things. Humanity and Gilgamesh. They didn’t know what this questioning entity was. It did not sound entirely human, the words asked without inflection or emotion. 

But it tasted in its very essence like humanity, like life and hope and an unwillingness to give up when faced with impossible odds. It felt like the need for help that Enkidu had always risen to in the past, when Ishtar had taken her rejection out on the people of Uruk. 

It tasted familiar and welcoming, a homecoming to a place they had never been. 

_Yes._

Everything shifted on the heels of their answer, the hook digging into their stomach and pulling. 

The endless sea of black nothingness that had been their only companion for eons burned away into shimmering whitegold. Hot fire spread through veins they hadn’t thought existed any longer. Not after their body had cracked apart like the clay doll they were, leaving nothing behind but mud and strands of hair to be returned to the earth they had come from. 

It was an impossible sensation after so long without. They gasped, air filling lungs that ached with disuse. 

It seemed only moments later that they slammed down into something solid, the light a column of warm sunlight tinged with the green of earth surrounding them. The fire in their veins spread, reaching through the whole body to lungs and heart, to limbs and fingertips. They lifted their arm, marveling at a hand that looked identical to the one that had touched the golden cheek of their most beloved moments before death. 

What kind of magic was this, that could undo what the gods had ordered? 

The light began to fade slowly, turning instead of golden glitter that stuck to skin of pale moonlight. It was bright and brilliant and so reminiscent of GIlgamesh that their heart clenched and pulsed, one giant bruise in their chest. It made them want to scream and cry even as they marveled. 

“Did it work??”

Enkidu looked up, pulled from the wonder of the moment by the sound. 

Three humans stood in front of them, eyes wide and smiles hopeful. 

One, a young male with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair, stepped forward, shoulders thrown back. He kept his eyes locked on Enkidu. “Are you Enkidu?”

They cocked their head, long green hair falling over shoulder and arm. “I am.”

The boy’s smile brightened, until it was as blinding as the sun had once been. “I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka. I’m so glad to finally meet you. For real.”

“For real?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Fujimaru waved the words away. “I’m the last master of humanity. We’re trying to save the world, humanity, the timeline, all of it. Will you join me?”

They nodded. “I have always served humanity. Even when others wished to sway my loyalty. I will help you.”

Fujimaru exhaled, shoulders slumping a little. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m so glad to hear that. We already have a room ready for you. We’re glad to have you.”

“Where am I?” 

“Chaldea.” Another man, his long fox tail red hair pulled back from his face, stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Romani Archaman. Most people call me Dr. Romani. Or just Romani is fine. With Fujimaru’s help as a master, we’re summoning servants of the Holy Grail. We need your help, more than any other war ever has.”

Enkidu knew of the Holy Grail that summoned heroes from throughout the timeline of human life. Beings so powerful and often tragic during their lives, that even after death they did not rest. They were called to the Grail, called to serve any mage who could call them and help in wars. Mages wanted the Grail for it’s wish granting properties. So did the servants they called. Most of them, anyway.

“We’re grateful for any help you can give us,” the girl said. Her hair, pale lavender and kept chin length, swayed as she stepped forward. Glasses glinted in the sterile white light of the room, her white jacket sliding off one shoulder. A magical essence emanated from her, strong and sure. 

“We’ve been trying to find a way to summon you for ages.” Fujimaru grinned, earnest and all the more charming for it. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

“Well, I am a weapon,” Enkidu agreed easily. “Use me as you see fit.” 

The girl and Fujimaru shared a long look. 

Enkidu waited in silence. They had long ago learned that if someone wanted to say something, they would. Given the right chance, they just about always did. 

The girl shifted uncomfortably. “We don’t see you as a weapon to be used. Even as a servant, you’re a person.”

They blinked. “You are the second being to ever say that to me.”

“What?” The girl looked horrified. “How is that possible?”

“Mash is a demi-servant,” Fujimaru added quickly. “And I don’t think she’s a weapon. She’s my best friend, my partner. I’m asking for your help, but I don’t see you as a thing.”

The girl, Mash, flushed pink. 

“I’m not a servant,” they explained, choosing their words carefully. “I am a sentient Noble Phantasm, the Chains of Heaven. You said you were trying to summon me. You know my history?”

Fujimaru nodded. “Yeah, Mash told me. She knows a lot about it.”

“The Epic of Gilgamesh,” Mash said. “It’s the first written story in human history. At least, that anyone is aware of. And since you’re part of his story… It tells us about you too.”

Their heart ached at the sound of his name again. They had always known Gilgamesh would be known until the end of time as a hero. That his history had been written as an epic to be remembered by all of humanity, that was no surprise either. He had been that kind of being, stronger and better than any of those around him. Even the gods couldn’t have measured up against the first hero of mankind. 

“Then you know I was created from clay by the Gods to tie him back to them. And you know why I died as well.”

“Yes,” she admitted, biting her lip. “I know. But I still think you’re a person, just like Senpai is. Just like any servant is.”

“And you _are_ a servant,” Fujimaru insisted. “Or I couldn’t have summoned you.”

There was no point in arguing, clearly. If Fujimaru and Mash wished to see them as a person, then they did. “As you wish.”

“Who was the first person?” Mash shifted her weight from foot to foot. “To consider you a person, I mean.”

They smiled softly, the memory both a jagged pain and a sufusing warmth. “Gilgamesh.” 

She smiled in return. “Of course.” Her gaze shifted from them to Fujimaru and back again, almost unconsciously. 

Their smile widened a little. “You understand.”

She flushed. 

Fujimaru cocked his head. “Huh?”

“Nothing, Senpai,” Mash said hurriedly. “We should show Enkidu to their room, shouldn’t we? Let … Uh, let them get settled in?”

“Do you prefer male or female pronouns?” Dr. Romani asked, clipboard in hand. 

“I’ll answer to any,” Enkidu said. “I can be anything.”

“They it is.” He nodded, scribbling on his paper. “Thanks. We learned to ask pretty quickly after a few mix ups.”

“Mix ups?” they repeated.

“Uh.” The Doctor flushed pink. “Let’s just say we’ve learned not to assume someone’s gender when it comes to servants.”

“Ah.” They understood. Gender was a much more fluid concept than some of humanity grasped. Servants, always the brightest and best for their times, didn’t always follow the rules that society thought were proper or expected. 

“We’ve adjusted and learned. All we can do.” He shrugged and turned towards the other two. “Why don’t you two show Enkidu to their room? I need to update the files. I can always find them later for further questions.”

“Sure.” Fujimaru motioned for Enkidu to follow him. “Come on.”

Enkidu stepped out of the summoning circle, glyphs still glimmering golden. Their bare feet made no noise on the cool floor, even as they left glitter wherever they’d stepped. They followed Fujimaru and Mash out into the halls. 

People of every color wandered the corridors in small groups of two and three, talking amongst themselves. They were dressed in every style imaginable, many in types that Enkidu had never seen, and carried weapons of every type. If it wasn’t for the Grail’s download of knowledge, they would have no idea what some of them were. Guns and katanas hadn’t been part Uruk, though Enkidu knew them on sight now. 

A few children chased each other through the halls, their laughter and shouts ringing behind them.

The walls were made of smooth metal, with small grooves the only indication of where the panels met one another. The floor and ceiling were the same colors, save where the occasional soot stains or weapon gouges marred the surroundings. Doors slid together and apart through some high level technology that might as well have been magic as people came and went. Keypads sat embedded in the wall next to multiple doors, suggesting higher level security was required to enter. 

Large windows lined the outer walls of Chaldea, offering a breathtaking view of the scenery outside. Mountains reached for the somber gray skies and snow swirled, cold and pristine in its white purity, as far as the eye could see. Chaldea had clearly chosen their base with security in mind. To servants, this was uncomfortable but nothing impossible. To other humans though? Not many would take the risk of ice and high altitudes. Even Enkidu hadn’t known many humans who would have tried something like this. 

Every hall they turned down looked the same, until anyone without an innate spacial awareness was going to find themselves lost in the sameness of it all. 

“Are there many servants here?” They cocked their head again, familiar curiosity welling up. 

“Lots.” Fujimaru nodded. “Not everyone we’ve ever met in the Singularities…”

“A lot of people we haven’t met before, actually,” Mash added. 

“But we can always use more help. It’s fun getting to know them all. You know?” Fujimaru finished, grin back in place. 

“I see.” The desire to ask about Gilgamesh was almost overwhelming, the words pushing at their mouth and crowding their throat, until it was all consuming. It was a second chance, a hope that could burn as much as it could give. 

But if Gilgamesh wasn’t wandering these halls of shiny metals and towering glass windows, if even now, they were separated by time and distance, it would be agonizing. Enkidu could survive any pain in the world, save that one. It would be kinder to rip their heart out. And if that was the truth, if Gilgamesh was not here… 

Enkidu would rather deal with that pain in private. For anyone else to see that grief, it was too much. 

“I hope you’ll be happy here, Enkidu,” Mash murmured. 

“I am sure,” they began. 

“I am the King. My word is law.”

Enkidu froze, steps faltering, heart slamming against their ribcage. 

“And I am a God. I do not listen to you.”

Laughter, warm and masculine and _his_ , echoed down the hall. “Do you not know what I did to the gods who thought to control me? I outrank you.”

“Enkidu?” Fujimaru placed a gentle hand on their shoulder.

Gilgamesh turned the corner, dressed in tight black jeans and a t-shirt that stretched across his chest, showing off his muscles. His hair, still that golden blond of captured sunlight, fell into eyes as red as rubies, as blood, as victory. He wasn’t dressed in his golden armor, his hair wasn’t spiked. He looked nothing the same. 

He looked everything the same. 

His smile was blinding, his laughter all encompassing. He was Gilgamesh, his pride evident in his eyes and the way he held himself. He was everything they had missed for longer than there were words in any language ever created, until it was a feeling that went all the way to their soul. It was more constant than anything in the universe. 

Enkidu swallowed against a throat gone dry, nails digging into their palms. 

Their eyes met, bright green clashing with the most stunning of red.

“Gil.”


	2. Gilgamesh

_“Don’t you think you should make friends?”_

_“Don’t speak to your betters as if you know best, mongrel.”_

_Fujimaru watched him with calm, warm eyes. “I just figure it’s lonely. There are plenty of servants here. I’m sure there’s someone you could form a bond with.”_

_That compassion, that concern, it was irritating. He had no need for it._

_He drew himself up to his fullest height, temper licking like flames at his nerves. “Don’t speak of what you do not know. Now, you annoy me. Get out of my sight, before you push your luck any farther.”_

Fujimaru had been insistent, to the point that the annoyance who called himself the last Master of Humanity had brought the topic up again and again. He seemed concerned, though to what end, Gilgamesh couldn’t begin to say. He was fine as he was, a perfect being in everything he did and was. 

Gilgamesh glanced at Ozymandias, who walked beside him through Chaldea’s endless halls.

Of all the Heroic Spirits he had met, Ozymandias was probably the one he understood the best. Both kings, both divine, both well aware that they were on a level that no one would reach. Gilgamesh could spend a seemingly endless amount of time in the presence of the Egpytian God-King and not find himself growing bored. They amused one another and enjoyed one another’s company more often than not. 

Fujimaru had stopped chattering on about the bonds of friendship since Gilgamesh had started spending time with Ozymandias. No matter how much the other servants complained about the two of them, Fujimaru didn’t seem to mind. The human probably thought that his goal had been met with success now. 

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Enkidu was the only friend the King of Heroes would ever have. They were the only equal that Gilgamesh had ever had, or ever would. They were the only being he had ever shed a tear for, the only person Gilgamesh had ever grieved for. But then, Enkidu had always been the exception to the rule it seemed. Gilgamesh had no interest in a second companion. He never had. Past, present, future, Enkidu was it. 

And Gilgamesh was content with that. Even if Enkidu was forever out of his reach, taken away by gods who were now nothing more than divine imprints at best. It didn’t matter if another eternity passed, Gilgamesh knew his opinion would not change.

It was yet another thing that it seemed Ozymandis understood and that made him so easy to deal with. Ozymandis had his own dear friend that he had no wish to replace, a being named Moses. 

Neither of them had any desire to call each other friend and therefore they could co-exist without mongrels butting in where they were not wanted and did not belong. 

“You’re restless,” Ozymandias said into the rare quiet between them. Silence was not a word that most would use when the two of them were together. No, together they had a tendency to egg each other on, until they were both shouting. 

Gilgamesh shrugged. He didn’t talk about Enkidu and the forever ache in his chest they had left behind when they’d died. It was always there, but some days were easier than others. There were stretches of time where the ache was just a part of him, until Gilgamesh hardly noticed it, it had been there for so long. Those days were easier. It was the days where missing them went from a pulsing bruise to a sharp pain, so agonizing it would steal his breath if he allowed it to. 

Gilgamesh allowed nothing to control him. He allowed no one to dictate what he could and could not do. Not even the Gods of Babylonia had been able to make that claim. This was no different. A lesser being would whine that it should get easier with time. Gilgamesh knew better. At this point, he’d spent more time without Enkidu than he had with them. But those moments, golden and jeweled green, were a treasure nothing in his armory would ever match. He would no more forget than he would admit himself less than the pinnacle of humanity and divinity. 

Ozymandias nodded and didn’t push for once. More than likely because Gilgamesh could see the same painful knowledge, that same aching lack, in the other king’s golden eyes. Nefertiti, Ozymandias’ beloved, was not here after all. There was a chance that the Pharaoh would be without forever, just like Gilgamesh was meant to be without Enkidu. 

Banter, easy and comfortable and familiar, filled the space between them as they wandered through Chaldea. They had no destination in mind, nothing with which to entertain themselves other than their superiority to everyone around them. But that too was normal at this point, when the lull between missions grew too stagnant. 

“I am the King.” He arched an eyebrow. “My word is law.”

Ozymandias grinned, sharp and challenging, as blinding as the sun he represented. “And I am a God. I do not listen to you.”

Gilgamesh laughed, hard. “Do you not know what I did to the gods who thought to control me? I outrank you.”

He turned the corner…

… And the whole world stopped moving.

There, as though a phantom conjured from his memories, stood Enkidu. 

It was as if someone had pulled Enkidu from the moment of their death, when Gilgamesh had cradled them in his arms. It had been raining at the time and somehow the robe Enkidu had worn had still been white at the end of it all, even as their hair, green like grass and soaked through, had clung to it. Gilgamesh had buried what had remained of their body after the clay had finished crumbling. He had buried them in the Underworld and had tried to move on. He had mourned even as he’d searched for a way to find his own immortality, but he’d tried to keep going. Because that was who he was. 

But it wasn’t like Gilgamesh had been unchanged by them. He could never have claimed that, he’d never tried. His whole life had been marked by Enkidu into before, during, and after. 

Ishtar, that useless goddess, had quickly learned not to show her face in Babylonia again. Not after the Bull of Heaven. Not after she was the reason he’d lost Enkidu. 

And now they stood in front of him, as though the time and distance between the two of them had never existed. 

Their eyes met, the emerald green of them as vivid as he remembered, until green had been his second favorite color. 

Gilgamesh’s heart skipped a beat, as though resyncing with a rhythm he had lost long ago. 

“Gil.”

He smiled, arrogant and so pleased his chest felt too tight for his heart. “Oh. So, that mongrel was able to summon you as well.”

Enkidu smiled, a sunrise as blinding as it was gentle. “I suppose so.”

“Well, you are a part of my story. And as such you are deemed a hero, the kind only equal to me.”

Enkidu’s smile widened impossibly larger. “I had heard that rumor somewhere.” 

Gilgamesh arched an eyebrow. “However. What took you so long getting here? You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Enkidu laughed, thunderstorms, gentle rain, and sunshine all wrapped within their skin, their voice. They were adrenaline and lazy days all wrapped into one. “I think waiting does you good.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Enkidu closed the distance between them, their footsteps silent and aura as intense as ever. “But I’m here now.”

“So you are.”

“Are you going to introduce me?” Ozymandias asked, hip cocked and eyes curious as he looked from Enkidu to Gilgamesh and back. 

Gilgamesh snorted. “Have you lost your tongue, that you cannot introduce yourself and think I should do it?”

Ozymandias smirked, unaffected. “Ozymandias, Sun-God, at your service. Also known as the Pharaoh Ramessess II.”

“Pleasure.” Enkidu inclined their head, long hair sweeping forward. “You’ve been keeping Gil company?”

“It passes the time.” Ozymandias shrugged. 

Enkidu shifted, close enough their arm brushed against Gilgamesh’s, their smile still warm. “Good.”

“You have no idea how long Mash and I have spent trying to find them so we could summon them.” Fujimaru rubbed the back of his head, his smile full of smug accomplishment. “It wasn’t easy.”

Gilgamesh shifted to look fully at Fujimaru and his demi-servant, eyebrow arched again. He honestly hadn’t even noticed they were there. “Did you expect summoning the one being who is my equal to be easy?”

“No.” Fujimaru shrugged. “Not really. But I knew it was important to you. It wasn’t hard to figure out you missed them once I heard the story. And the way you refuse to find another friend.”

Gilgamesh snorted in disdain and narrowed his eyes. “You presume to know what would bring me true joy? A mongrel like you could not understand such things. Don’t strain yourself.”

Fujimaru shrugged again, his grin still too self-satisfied for liking. “Whatever you say, King of Heroes.”

“Now we can focus on our next target.” Mash smiled brightly and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

Ozymandias stood just a little taller. “Oh?”

“We’re still looking for Moses and Nefertiti,” Fujimaru said, his smile dimming slightly. “We haven’t given up.”

Ozymandias frowned slightly. “They will be found. Nothing less is acceptable.”

“I know,” Fujimaru said quickly, almost soothingly. “And we will.”

“We were thinking about Ishtar too,” Mash added. 

Enkidu stiffened at Giglamesh’s side. “No. I don’t want her here.”

“She’s really strong,” Mash started. 

“I don’t want her here,” Enkidu repeated with a small frown. 

Gilgamesh smirked and folded his arms, leaning back against the wall. Their voice sounded serene and calm, more like a spring day than the waiting storm. But only if you didn’t know them. 

Fujimaru stepped between Mash and Enkidu, though he was undoubtedly the weakest one here. He had always been good at reading the emotional charge of people. “Your dislike is noted, don’t worry. I should have thought of that.”

“If we’re done talking about that useless excuse for a goddess,” Gilgamesh said into the quiet that descended, his tone lazy and amused, “we should go.”

Mash tugged Fujimaru back to her side. “We were taking Enkidu to their room. Did you want to come with us?” 

Gilgamesh laughed. “You do amuse me, mongrel. That won’t be needed.”

As they had shared during their lives in Babylonia, so they would share again. 

Understanding dawned in Fujimaru’s eyes. His skin flushed pink. 

Enkidu smiled at Fujimaru and Mash. “It was nice meeting you.” They turned towards Ozymandias, their smile even more radiant and amused. “I hope to get to know you better soon.” 

Ozymandias grinned. “Absolutely.”

Enkidu shifted to stand before Gilgamesh and held out a hand. 

He pushed away from the wall and allowed Enkidu to link their elbows, as they had once done day in and day out.

There was no need to say goodbye to the others. The only person who rated the words wouldn’t care that Gilgamesh didn’t utter them. He turned away, leading Enkidu through the halls, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. 

Anyone who thought to approach the newly summoned servant also knew better than to approach Gilgamesh and wisely kept their distance. That wouldn’t last forever. Servants were by nature too curious for their own good, with little concept of boundaries. But for now, it was exactly what Gilgamesh desired. 

His room offered the privacy they both sought. A King was used to having all eyes on him, as was expected. Privacy was a rare commodity. But it was one that he knew Enkidu preferred. And for something like this, well, Gilgamesh didn’t share what was his alone.

The doors slid closed behind them, finally leaving them without an audience.

His room was the largest that Chaldea had to offer. He had, of course, demanded it as part of his payment for lending them his power in their war. It was nothing compared to the opulence of Babylonia, but Gilgamesh had made due with treasures from his coffers. Thick rugs of fur and golden relics dotted the room, as did precious gems and more than a few weapons. On the bed lay Gigamesh’s newest acquisition, a golden iPad that offered hours of entertainment. 

And none of it mattered as Enkidu turned to face him, smile bright and eyes full of the same bloodlust that Gilgamesh could feel stirring in his gut.

Words were unnecessary. They never had been between the two of them. Not when Enkidu understood Gilgamesh in a way no one else ever had. Not when Gilgamesh understood Enkidu in turn. 

The day they’d met it had been in battle. Together they’d destroyed large parts of Uruk in the three days that followed. It had been the first time that Gilgamesh had been forced to use his treasury in battle, the first time he’d found an opponent who was worthy of such treasures. In the aftermath, as gold dust from both the Gate Babylonia and the crumbling buildings had coated their sweat slick bodies and they had both gasped for breath, a bond had formed. 

Enkidu grinned, a wild flash of lightning given form, and attacked.

Gilgamesh met them head on, matching strength for strength. He laughed as Enkidu slipped out of his grasp, smooth as the clay they had been made from and opened his Gate, bathing them both in a deep golden light. 

“Come on then.”

Enkidu moved like the wind, a howling gale one minute and a whisper of sensation the next. 

Gilgamesh’s weapons slammed into the walls of Chaldea as Enkidu danced through the air, only to disintegrate into glimmering dust as they returned to his Gate. 

Enkidu pushed off the wall, hurtling towards Gilgamesh with impossible speeds. 

Gilgamesh grinned, reckless and arrogant and full of impossible joy, and rolled out of the way.

Enkidu slammed into his bed with a boom of sound. The bed groaned and cracked under the force, the iPad cracking with a wrenching screech. “If you wanted me in your bed again, you could have asked,” they said, laughter wrapping around their words. 

Gilgamesh laughed, his sides aching from how much he had done so today. “Without a proper date? Who do you take me for?”

They met in the center of the room, a challenge that they had never found with anyone else. In Uruk, Gilgamesh had avoided training with Enkidu unless he was prepared to ride outside the city limits. Or repair quite a few training yards. But no sparring partner could satisfy him. Not like this. Not until he felt like he was pushed to his limits, until muscles he rarely had to use were aching. 

The building shook around them. Distant screams could be heard echoing down the halls.

How long they fought, he couldn’t say. Minutes fell away like grains of sand, small and insignificant and hours slid into one another, a blur. All that mattered was this moment, here and now. He could fight forever and not tire if given half the chance. Not now as he and Enkidu reacquainted themselves with the familiar dance that was as much a fliration of blood and teeth as it was a battle. 

Anyone who wanted to see the destruction the two of them could cause together, the sheer skill that lay within their forms, should consider themselves lucky that Gilgamesh was inclined to show off right now, rather than take offense. 

“Is that all you can do?” Enkidu taunted, hair a tangled halo. “Is the great Gilgamesh out of shape?”

Gilgamesh arched an eyebrow and shifted his trajectory. He slammed into them, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. He shifted, pinning Enkidu beneath him. “What was that?”

“The game isn’t won yet,” Enkidu murmured, arms wrapping around Gilgamesh and pulling him down. 

Their mouths met, fingers tangling in hair as they slid into the slow descent of lust that had so often followed sparring sessions. Neither of them were gentle, desire a raging inferno that spread through Gilgamesh’s veins. He ripped at Enkidu’s robe, already thinking of far more fitting clothes to reclothe their body in later. 

Scraps of white fabric fell away, leaving him free to explore a body he knew as well as his own. His fingers and mouth traced paths of skin down Enkidu’s body, at once achingly familiar and new all over again. He didn’t rush in this, no matter how impatience beat at his skull, no matter how eager he was. Every sound he wrung free, every touch and taste, was to be catalogued, a treasure of another kind for him to savor.

Enkidu shuddered and squirmed under his touch, ripping clothes away with equal fervor. Their touch glided over Gilgamesh’s bared skin, leaving a trail of pleasure in their wake. 

Bruises and marks made by fingers and teeth were sucked into skin, to be worn with pride on both sides. Sweat dripped from their skin, moonlight and gold mixing as they moved together, in perfect harmony as they egged one another on. 

No, words weren’t needed. But then, they never had been. Gilgamesh could feel Enkidu’s love, a warmth of sunlight on his skin he could bask in forever. It was as if their hearts beat together as one. Enkidu claimed he had been born without one, a doll for the gods, and later Gilgamesh, to do as they pleased. Gilgamesh knew that for a lie. Enkidu’s love had never been in question from the moment their first battle had ended, Gilgamesh victorious. And Gilgamesh was equally theirs, in a way he would allow no one else to lay claim. 

Enkidu arched, body bending as lust swept over both of them anew, turning blood to honey and bones to unfired clay as they both came.

“Done so soon?” Enkidu teased, breathless and challenging as only they could be.

“Only you could speak to me so,” Gilgamesh growled, flipping them. 

Enkidu leaned down, their hair a curtain sweeping forward to block out the rest of the world. The green of their eyes warmed, smug and infinitely fond all at once. “I should hope so.”

It was quite some time later that they lay together, bodies gleaming under the harsh lights of Chaldea, spent and exhausted. 

Gilgamesh shifted to stare at Enkidu, drinking in the sight of them. Their body was perfect, the only blemishes to be seen the ones Gilgamesh had put on there himself. They looked thoroughly used and pleased with the fact. He smiled, content in a way he had not been for ages.

He would never take this for granted. The time after their death had been impossibly lonely, even for him. Gilgamesh was a king without peer, even among the other beings who called themselves kings in history. He was used to being on a level no other could reach. No other that was, but Enkidu. The hole left behind by their death had never quite healed, a pulsing lack Gilgamesh alone had known. 

“I believe we destroyed your room,” Enkidu murmured, glancing around slowly.

Everything lay twisted and melted in rubble around them, a leftover carnage. 

Gilgamesh shrugged and waved a hand to dismiss the concern. “I will have the mongrel clean it up. There was nothing in here I cannot replace with ease.”

“Mmm.” Enkidu shifted, leaning more of their weight on Gilgamesh. 

He ran his fingers through their hair, careful not to pull. “Perhaps an expansion is in order.”

“It’s not as nice as Uruk,” they agreed. “But nothing is. I am happy with this.”

“I will ensure a new wardrobe to my specifications is ordered as well,” he continued. 

“I see you’re as difficult about that as ever.”

“You are my equal.” 

“I like my clothes.” They wrinkled their nose. “But I suppose we can discuss a few other options.”

Gilgamesh’s smile widened. “I look forward to _discussing_ it. I will win.”

They stuck their tongue out at him. “Gil.”

He hummed, unrepentant. “Welcome home.”

Enkidu softened and leaned forward, kissing him gently. “Welcome home too.”

****

**OoOoO**

Fujimaru didn’t get to clean Gilgamesh and Enkidu’s room. Mash insisted she do it so that he wouldn’t be bothered.

That didn’t mean the ruler of Uruk didn’t cause issues for him though. A number of servants came to Fujimaru about the damage that had been done. Several started fighting outside of the specially designed training rooms and blamed Gilgamesh when they were in trouble.

Fujimaru cleaned up the messes as normal, his smile unfaltering. 

It had been worth every drop of mana it cost him to summon Enkidu. And it had been worth every complaint from the other servants later.

Gilgamesh’s ego was somehow larger, his grin brighter and arrogance unmatched.

And it was all still worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two more than there are words to describe it.
> 
> This scene has been bugging me since I started playing F/GO over a year ago. So I finally wrote it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. This is was truly a joy to write. 
> 
> <3 Celest


End file.
